


in the meantime

by anicula



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Drag Queens, M/M, boy trixie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-06-06 08:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15190388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anicula/pseuds/anicula
Summary: Aquaria is a shop keeping kind of witch.Max is a university teaching kind of idiot.





	1. let me down slowly

“Again?”

Max squinted through the hazy air of dust that always clung to every molecule of being within the shop no matter how recently Aquaria claimed to have had it cleaned.

“You sound awful judgy for someone who I know  _for a fact_  was out as late as I was last night,” he said to the offending air. It was difficult to figure out where Aquaria had situated herself this morning - not that it was particularly easier any other mornings - but between the pounding at his temples and the ridiculously intricate spells Aquaria enjoyed, he might as well have just walked back out and asked the fire hydrant for a potion for all the success he was having.

“ _I_  am not the one begging for another hangover cure the second time this week.”

Max jumped. Aquaria had seen fit to materialize a scant inch from his side, so close he could feel her parting words.

“It’s a Tuesday. What  _will_  your students say?” she continued, light and teasing as she circled him, undoing one of the buckles on his briefcase as she went. Her fascination with his dull, brown, hundred year old briefcase was a thing he didn’t quite understand but did have to accept as a fact of life that if he were to interact with her in any capacity while carrying it, he would have to double check it after to ensure everything was back where it belonged.

“I have class in half an hour. If you can make this quick, I promise I’ll be back for lunch and you can continue mocking me for the hour.”

“Only an hour?” She propped herself up on the counter, which up until this point, Max had not been able to locate at all. Inanimate it might have been, but the shop most definitely only answered to Aquaria.

“I have a job remember? And I actually have to do it.”

“Are you implying I don’t do my job?” Her tone was flippant but the light in her eyes was anything but.

Max sighed. “Aqua - please?”

Aquaria rolled her eyes, not doubt disappointed with her entertainment falling flat before she could rip it apart. “Fine. But it’s your last for the week. Don’t come crying if your terrible decision making skills mess you up again.”

“The only thing messing me up is you,” slipped out before Max fully thought out that thought.

The world though, did not go as still and uncomfortable as he would’ve thought in the minutes after. All Aquaria did was shoot him an unreadable look over her shoulder as she headed to the back where she kept her premade concoctions, leaving Max the perfect amount of time to stew in his own foot in the mouth mistake of the morning.

 

“I wish you would tell me what your secret was,” Brian said in between sips of his pilfered beverage, “Aqua never gives me the good stuff.”

“That’s because you set her favourite robe on fire,” Max eyed the desperate way Brian was choking down  _his_  hangover cure. He reached out for what was rightfully his before Brian could finish the whole bottle.

“She could’ve used that big brain of hers to fireproof herself,” Brian pointed out, “A thousand and one numbers using candles and not once -  _not once_  - does it cross her mind that it might be a fire hazard?”

“Well Tamar, have you ever seen her shows?” Max returned with raised brows. He downed all that was left in the bottle before another graduate student showed up desperate for relief.

Brian snorted. “I want you to know that I hate you for being hip and I hate her for making you so tragically hip.”

Max spun around in his best impersonation of Aquaria. “You’re welcome.”

Brian made a retching noise. “I’m gonna go back to my office where I’m not being discriminated against.”

“Ageism isn’t a thing if we’re the same age,” Max said to Brian’s retreating back.

Brian only flipped him the bird in response.

 

Brian wasn’t wrong about how Aquaria more or less relied solely on spit and luck to ensure that she wouldn’t burn the entire building down every time she performed. She was heavy handed with her props and none of them were safe for use within breathing distance of hair spray.

It was a fact that Max was reminded of intimately as he watched her pour melted candle wax along her bare arms as she twirled around the edges of the stage. Her top, if you could call a loose silk robe a top, was long gone - thrown off near the beginning of her number and all she had on was a long skirt hanging low on her hips, her hipbones bare and sharp against the dark colour of the skirt.

He found it hard to look away.

The sway of her hips was always mesmerizing, but it was a thousand times more enticing when the small pearls of wax traced along the lean lines of her body, mapping out the pale skin with invisible hands. He shifted in his seat, suddenly alert and aware of the music and the thump of the bass. She wasn’t even half way through her performance yet, the row of candles at her feet like obedient little disciples eager for their time to shine. He crossed his legs and leaned on the arm of his chair.

The movement caught her eye and her saunter towards him was slow and cloying, the small jewels adorning her body winking in time to the music. Max carefully kept his face neutral and his hands loose. It didn’t slow her stride or stop her mouth from curving up, the gleam in her eye promising nothing good.

She swirled to a stop right in front of him, turning around, and as the music crescendoed - 

Max found himself with a lap full of Aquaria, a face full of hair, and a lung full of her scent 

\- and then she was gone, up and out with a flick of her long hair, off to terrorize another unsuspecting audience member. 

Max found himself able to breathe again, hands flexing against the metal of his chair. A little unsteady, but no worse for wear. It was nothing a drink at the bar couldn’t fix.

 

He found Gio in the back, rubbing off the last bit of glue along his hairline. Max lifted up the drink in his hand. “Thirsty?”

“Am I never?” Gio motioned for him to put it on the low wooden table that made up the vanity. “Also don’t you have work tomorrow morning? I meant it when I said I’m not giving you another pick me up this week - I barely have enough stock to get  _me_  through tomorrow.”

Max shoved his hands into his pockets. “No class for me tomorrow morning.”

Gio snorted. “Lucky. And you were going on about  _my_  layabout ways.”

“You sell two crystals to a mundane and call it a day,” Max said dryly.

Gio shot back a not very convincing evil eye, the sigil hanging in the air for a few feeble moments before vanishing completely in a grey white mist. 

Max laughed. “I’m going to call us a cab before  _you_  disappear in a vapour of tired.”

Whatever Gio wanted to say back was interrupted by a jaw cracking yawn. He made a face in the mirror. Max stifled a laugh. Gio made a growling sound that was about as intimidating as a ferocious week old kitten. Max couldn't stifle that laugh.

"Meet me out front when you're done," he told Gio's scrunched up reflection with perhaps, a touch too much fondness. He pulled his phone out and walked back into the dingy hallway to make his call.


	2. sweet serial killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the beginning

The Shop.

A simple enough name for a seemingly simple enough shop.

Max double checked the ink scribbled across his hand. He would, if he was any other person, have the directions and name on a phone. But as it stood, he’d left his phone at home and wasn’t the kind of person to have paper hanging around in the first place. He shifted his briefcase from one hand to the other, reaching for the door.

It was immediately very clear that he was, in fact, in the right place despite its mundane trappings. There were books hovering in midair, empty shelves curved towards the wall as if in mid stretch, and two grandfather clocks engaged in what appeared to be a fistfight in as much as two objects with no arms could fight with their fists. Max edged cautiously into the store, weary of the books in case they should start flying instead of just hovering.

“Hello?” he called out.

“Good morning.”

Max pivoted on his heel to find himself face to face with bright green eyes. He stepped back. The bright dots of colour resolved themselves into an inquisitive, if furry than expected, face.

“Hello,” Max paused, unsure how to address something that was definitely not a bat but also definitely not a human. “Sir?” he probed tentatively.

“Weck.” A softer, velvet voice from behind.

This time, when Max turned, it was to see a very human figure leaning against a doorway that Max most certainly did not see when he first entered. So otherworldly pale in the gloom of their surroundings, they had arranged themselves like a painting with artfully draped silks over their slender figure, making them impossible to miss. Max had a sneaking feeling that they had been there since he had first arrived by the look of the folds of clothing that seemed too perfect and too exact.

“I’m sorry?”

“His name is Weck, not sir.” The figure pushed themselves off the wall and slowly made their way over to Max. The furry ball zoomed past Max to its owner.

“And your name?” Max probed, hands clasped behind his back.

“Aquaria,” returned with a perfectly groomed raised brow. “And you are?”

Max cleared his throat. “Maxwell Heller. Nice to meet you.” He contemplated holding his hand out for a shake but Aquaria didn’t seem to be in any hurry for more pleasantries, what with the way she had decided to cradle Weck in her arms.

The silence hung uncomfortably in the air. The floating books started to look ominous, predatory in their frozen state. Aquaria slowly threaded her fingers through Weck’s fur.

Max cleared his throat and tried again. “I was referred here by a student of mine. I’m actually looking for a book on history of fairy rings.”

“Fairy rings?” Aquaria cocked her head to the side. For the first time since their conversation started, a flicker of interest lit up her eyes. “Is this for business or pleasure?”

“Both?” Max shrugged. “I’m thinking of incorporating a more fae based syllabus for next semester, but I’ve been wanting to expand my own collection too.”

“You’re a teacher?” Aquaria’s voice floated over the shelves that she had started to shift through.

“Professor. History - at Columbia.” The note of pride was hard to quell. The mocking twist to Aquaria’s mouth when she looked up was even harder to miss.

“A doctor then?”

Max nodded, abrupt and short in mild embarrassment.

“Dr. Maxwell Heller,” Aquaria sounded out the syllables like they were in a foreign language. “How delightful. Should I be giving you my government name and documentation?”

“Just some books would be good.” Max shoved his hand into his pocket in an effort to not say anything else incriminating.

The look Aquaria shot him was assessing. Max shifted in place. She let out a sigh before walking deeper into the shop, a long wooden counter revealing itself along the edges of the wall.

“I suppose that’s doable.” She bent down and came out with several tomes in hand. “We have a few books that might tickle your fancy.” Her tone was cool and practiced.

Max leafed through the aging pages. “Are these in Manx?”

She cocked her head to the side. A crisp, “yes,” was all the assistance Max received.

He smoothed his hands over the raw edges of the pages. “How arrogant would I seem if I asked for all of these to be packaged?”

“I imagine no more than how arrogant you usually seem,” Aquaria deftly wrapped the books in brown paper, “Dr. Maxwell Heller.” She bound the books by breaking the twine with her hands.

“Thank you,” Max said, catching both the parcels and the personality with little grace but just about managing. “How much-”

“The staters in your pocket will do just fine.”

Max pushed his wallet back into his pocket with a stern reminder to himself that the bottom of his jaw was meant to be attached to the top part. “Didn’t realize you were also a metal detector.”

“Not everyone is  _gifted_.” Aquaria’s mouth was curled in a decidedly arrogant manner. 

“Of course not,” Max could not suppress the sardonic lilt to his words but he found himself grinning anyways. He pulled out his recently acquired coins - ones that he had been carrying around to bring back to the lab but now found himself surrendering to an overconfident pile of silk. 

“Thank you,” Aquaria said succinctly as the coins tumbled into her hand, and with a perfunctory smile, “Please come again.”

Max shook his head and allowed himself one short huff when he was finally out of the shop. The proprietor was  _something_  alright, at least Brian hadn’t been wrong on that account. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> not complete but not not complete (I am too enamored with this idea to let it go)


End file.
